The Golden Fleece Affair

I’m getting ready to publish The Golden Fleece Affair, the second novel in the Lady Dru dieselpunk series.

So for today’s blog post, I’m going to let you all sample chapter one. Without further ado, here it is. Enjoy!

ONE

Hall Castle

Northern California
Early Afternoon
Thursday, 8 April 1954

I pushed the throttle and watched the speedo needle cross the one hundred miles per hour mark and pulled back on the stick. The nose of my Puss Moth rose and continued rising. Up, up, up we flew until we were upside down. I pushed the stick forward and down we went; pulled back and leveled off, completing the loop.

Karl started awake and I put my little baby into a displacement roll (something like a corkscrew). Once, twice, thrice. Karl started screaming, “We’re going to crash!”

I brought the plane back to level just as Karl grabbed an airsickness bag and threw up. I was laughing so hard, tears ran from my eyes.

“Goddamn it, Dru! You know I hate flying in these little planes. What the hell did you do that for?”

My laughter under control, I said, “You were nodding off. I figured you must be bored and might appreciate a little excitement.”

“This is the last time I fly in this death trap. A perfectly good sandwich is now in that bag.”

I started laughing again and my sides were aching.

“I don’t know what’s so funny. I can’t wait to get on the ground and stay on the ground. Flying. Pshaw!”

Laughter once again under control, I said, “I’m sorry, Karl. I am.”

He gave me a sidelong glance and said, “I’m only in this contraption because I love you. The least you can do is let me keep my lunch.”

“I’m sorry. Just a little over an hour and we’ll be at Hall Castle.”

“Good.”

Karl von Weidner, Hall Media’s top journalist and my lover, is okay in an airship, tolerates a large aeroplane, and barely endures a small plane. Out of the past twenty days, only five did not involve some mode of traveling. The remainder of the time we were flying or on a train.

The Soviet Civil War was a year old. Italy, Germany, Romania, Hungary, and Britain had intervened on behalf of the Czarist cause and at long last the League of Nations had decided to take up the issue and try to broker peace. Walter Ramsey Hall, owner of Hall Media and our boss, dispatched us to cover the proceedings.

We arrived in Geneva on the 25th of March, after a five day trip by Boeing Clipper and train. On the 29th, we received an urgent telegram to meet Mr Hall at “the ranch” as soon as possible. “The ranch” being his name for his grand California estate. The next day we boarded a train for Frankfurt, where we bought tickets for a flight on the LZ-156 Richard Wagner. We crossed the Atlantic in style, as can only be had on a zeppelin, and, once back in America, took off for California from New York in my private plane.

One hour in the Puss Moth is too much for Karl and today is our fourth day of puddle jumping across the country. I don’t blame him for being cranky and upset at my little joke. He truly was sitting beside me only because he loves me. Our puddle jumping hasn’t been all bad, though. Each night we land, I get to make love to Karl and sleep with him. Now that I’ve let that slip, you can probably figure out why I chose to fly my little plane across country. Just don’t tell Karl.

Below us spread the Los Padres National Forest in all directions for a hundred miles or more. In places, the mountains are over three thousand feet. I said to Karl, “I’m sure you don’t want us crashing into some tree-clad peak.”

He gave me a puzzled look, touched with a hint of fear.

“Just warning you I’m going to climb up to six thousand feet. Okay?”

He nodded.

I gently pulled back on the stick and the little plane started gaining altitude.

Karl looked out the window. “The scenery is beautiful; isn’t it, Dru?”

“It is. California is such a beautiful state. I hope it doesn’t become overrun with people like New York.”

“That would be a pity.”

“I’m sorry, Karl, for being such an imp.”

He reached over and took my hand. “You are forgiven.”

“Truly?”

“Truly. I love you too much not to forgive you.”

I started wiggling the wings.

“Dru!” His hands gripped the seat.

I giggled and returned the plane to the level.

A year ago I almost gave up Karl for someone who was willing to marry me, even though I was and still am madly in love with him. Karl’s sense of duty binds him to his mentally ill wife. He will not leave her. I grew tired of being “the other woman” and in the process almost lost my soulmate. Things between us worked out, though, and we remain lovers.

I reached out and took his hand, gave it a squeeze, and said, “Thank you for loving me.”

“Thank you, Dru, for putting up with me and loving me back. Believe me when I say, I wish I’d met you first.”

“I do.”

We leaned towards each other, our lips meeting.

When we parted, I said, “Too bad my baby doesn’t have autopilot, because we’d be back there right now and I’d be ripping your clothes off.”

Karl laughed. “Sometimes, Dru Drummond, I think you are a cat in heat.”

I let out a loud, growly meow and Karl laughed all the more. I so love this man. He makes me feel alive. If someone makes you feel alive, don’t ever let him go.

“Look, Karl, there’s the Castle.”

“The House on the Enchanted Hill.”

“It’s so beautiful. Looks like one of those European fairytale castles.”

“Yes, it does.”

Before we took off from L.A., I sent a telegram to The House on the Enchanted Hill to inform Mr Hall of the estimated time of our arrival so someone would be at the airstrip. With the Castle in sight, I radioed our position and the time I expected to land. Someone at the airstrip confirmed my message. And in no time the fifty miles were behind us.

I circled the strip once to get a feel for the wind and air currents and to get a visual on the strip itself. I brought the plane in, cutting speed, letting the wind aid in slowing her down, and made sure I kept the nose up. The wheels touched earth, we took a little hop, I slowed more, and we were down. I braked and then taxied to where a man in jeans and a flannel shirt directed me. When parked, I cut power, and Karl and I climbed out of the plane.

The man in the flannel shirt and jeans put chocks to block the wheels. When done, he introduced himself, “I’m Jake Branson. You must be Lady Hurley-Drummond and Mr Weidner.”

We acknowledged we were.

“They’re waiting for you at the house. I’ll take you up there. Do you have luggage?”

We said we did, and Branson helped us get our bags out of the plane. Then he led us to a Willys Jeep. Between the three of us and Karl’s and my bags, we looked like an overflowing tin of sardines. Nothing, however, was lost on the short drive up to the Castle.

Branson stopped in front of the main door. Waiting for us were two men and Branson introduced us to Reynolds, the butler, and Jepson, one of the footmen.

“They’ll take your bags in and get you settled,” Branson informed us.

We didn’t enter the Grand House, however. Instead we followed the servants to the Mountain House, which is one of the guest houses.

“Mr Hall will be with you shortly,” Reynolds informed us. “In the meantime, there are four bedrooms and you may each choose the one most suitable for you. Is there anything you might need?”

We told him, no, and he and Jepson departed.

“I get the Cardinal Richelieu bed,” I promptly informed Karl.

“Be my guest,” he said, laughter in his voice.

The clock showed two-thirty by the time Karl and I got settled in the guest house. The April sun was beginning its long descent to the horizon, but the day was far from over. I stepped outside to enjoy the warm California spring. The temperature was in the seventies. The air was dry with only a slight breeze stirring. The view of the mountains was gorgeous. Karl joined me and we stood on the patio, holding hands, looking at the rugged peaks.

Karl rarely shows any public display of affection. He doesn’t want to risk word getting back to his wife. I don’t blame him, although I do miss his touch once we are outside of four walls and drawn drapes. I shan’t complain. I have his love and it is the best love for me. Never will I let it go.

We heard a noise. Karl let go of my hand and we turned around to see a servant girl with a basket, followed by a second girl, also carrying a basket.

The first girl said, “We’ve brought you lunch, in case you’re hungry. Mr Hall is on his way and he said to go ahead and start eating. He’s already had his lunch.”

The two young women set the baskets inside the guest house and departed. Karl and I had followed them in and were taking out the contents when there was a knock on the door. Karl called out “enter”, and in walked our boss, Walter Ramsey Hall.

[Originally published 21 April 2015 on www.cwhawes.com.]